Remembering the republicans' defeat

Where is the passion we felt ten years ago when we argued about becoming a republic? The 10th anniversary of the republican movement's defeat in the November 1999 referendum passed with scarcely a ripple the other day.

That's to be regretted, because it means Australia continues to be headed by monarchs who inherit the throne according to laws which should have no place in a modern nation (even if we do manage to accommodate the idea of an inherited monarchy).

Succession to the English throne is still governed largely by the Act of Settlement of 1701, which specifically excludes not only Roman Catholics, but anyone who marries a Catholic. The monarch must be Protestant, and become part of the Church of England communion.

In addition, the monarch carries the title Defender of the Faith, and is automatically Supreme Governor of the Church of England. This may be appropriate for England, if you accept the idea of an establishment church.

In Australia, our founding fathers were determined not to import sectarian nastiness from the old world, and wrote this into the Constitution:

The Commonwealth shall not make any law for establishing any religion, or for imposing any religious observance, or for prohibiting the free exercise of any religion, and no religious test shall be required as a qualification for any office or public trust under the Commonwealth.

No religious test required – except, that is, to inherit the position of King or Queen of Australia.

In another provision which should be anathema in a modern nation, the Act of 1701 bases succession on the rules of male primogeniture. A woman cannot inherit the throne if she has a younger male sibling. (In Britain, this is unlikely to be a practical issue for many years, if ever – but it's still a relic of times when women had inferior status.)

Over recent years in Britain, there have been moves to change these rules but nothing much has happened.

Contrary to monarchists' claims today, a decade ago most Australians did support a republic – but a majority of them wanted nothing short of a republic in which the public elected the president. They declined to vote for the “minimal change” model put to them in the referendum, under which the president would have been elected by a two-thirds majority in a joint sitting of the Federal parliament.

For the then Prime Minister, John Howard – a committed monarchist – it must remain a proud achievement. As Grumpy Old Journo wrote in this post in February last year, Howard used a brilliant “wedge” strategy to halt what appeared to be Australia's inexorable loosening of ties with the “mother country”.

First, he set up a Constitutional Convention which argued for a couple of weeks before agreeing on the “minimal change” model which was put to the electorate. With a small majority, it supported a parliamentary vote to select the President, rather than a national election, because it would not disrupt constitutional arrangements which were working well. And that's where we lost.

Tony Abbott and other Liberal leaders said the position of President would be far too important to be decided by politicians. We should vote no to a republic so we didn't have the President elected by politicians.

It worked. It seemed Australians didn't know that under the existing, continuing arrangement, one person – the Prime Minister, possibly but not necessarily in consultation with a few cronies – chooses the Governor-General. The British monarch must accept the Australian Prime Minister's nomination.

Howard was also able to exploit two weaknesses in the republican cause. As historian Stuart Macintyre wrote in the second edition of his Concise History of Australia:

The first was the very celebrity of the republicans. [Malcolm] Turnbull's movement used prominent writers and artists, recruited television personalities, business and sportspeople. Their enthusiastic advocacy could be dismissed as an example of the estrangement of the elites from the practical concerns of the battlers.

The second weakness was to campaign for the minimal republic.

Their chief argument turned out to be no more than an appeal to national prejudice: Australia should not have a foreigner as its head of state. Since an Australian governor-general already exercised the functions of the head of state, this allowed monarchists to divert the republican debate into an arcane argument over constitutional law.

It also did not help the republicans that Howard also drafted a new preamble to the Constitution, and put it to the electors in the same referendum. The electors duly rejected both questions. As Macintyre wrote:

. . . he produced a preamble of startling banality that invoked mateship, refused to recognise Aborigines' prior occupancy of the land, and took a gratuitous swipe at political correctness.

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Let's have many "conversations" about our national day

Back on Australia Day two years ago, Grumpy Old Journo posted this suggestion that we celebrate our national day a week later:

Sometimes, when I'm feeling mischievous, I suggest European settlement of Australia really began with a drunken orgy on February 6. Perhaps we should observe that date as Australia Day.

After all, it's the day white women joined the settlement.

On that day in 1788, after the male convicts had laboured for more than a week setting up rudimentary buildings at Sydney Cove, it was time to land the women convicts. The disembarkation took all day.

Then the sailors asked for rum “to make merry with upon the women quitting the ships.” From contemporary accounts, all that night there were scenes of debauchery and riot which beggared description. Even a sudden Sydney thunderstorm could not drown the revelry.

Nobody putting their hands up for February 6? What a lot of wowsers we've become!

More seriously, how about January 1? In 1901, that was the day on which Australia became a nation, rather than an assortment of British colonies. It would be a day for all Australians – it's not for nothing that many Aboriginal activists refer to January 26 as Invasion Day.

On Australia Day this year, when Aboriginal leader Mick Dodson – co-author of the Bringing Them Home report which told Australians about the Stolen Generations – received the honour of Australian of the Year, he pushed the issue back into public debate.

After first saying he had considered rejecting the honour because January 26 represented a “day of mourning” for his people, Professor Dodson moderated his words and asked for a “conversation” about the date on which we celebrate Australia Day.

Your grumpy old blogger trembled. Surely the appeal would see every ratbag crawl out from under a rock to sneer at the idea of accommodating the feelings of Aboriginal Australians. It's true that a few did – the same old predictable names. Grumpy Old Journo didn't post a comment at the time, preferring to sit back and think it over.

But overall, we had a mature debate. A worthwhile conversation. Most of those who blogged or wrote to newspapers understood the view of many Aboriginal Australians. But at the same time, most agreed with Prime Minister Kevin Rudd – “respectfully, no” – to any change.

With some misgivings, and with a plea to indigenous friends to understand my views, I agree with the Prime Minister. But my reasons may differ.

Today, it's not easy to select an alternative date. Some have been suggested, but few really commend themselves.

The landing of the First Fleet convicts, guards and officers in 1788 (and the claiming of Aboriginal land as British territory) did represent a milestone in the development of the Australian nation – although it also introduced the disease, dispossession and exploitation that did untold damage to the original Australians. Most reasonable people today accept that interpretation.

But the arrival of the Brits would, over time, also bring some of the benefits of the European Enlightenment, along with a robust legal system and the foundations of political structures essential to the development of a nation in the modern world.

Today, we are well along the path of reconciliation between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians. We will have many more “conversations” before we get to our destination. Perhaps some date symbolic of that arrival would serve as Australia day.

But I would like to see Australia reach another milestone which could mark our national day of celebration. It would be the day on which Australian became a republic. A republic which acknowledged its debt to Britain, along with that to its indigenous people, and indeed, to all those, Australian-born or immigrant, who have come together to make up our nation.

That would be the day it became possible for an Australian to be our head of state – not a British hereditary monarch who must, by 18th century English law, be a member of the Church of England.

But that's another conversation, isn't it?

John Who?

There I was at my No 1 Ladies Book Club, and I happened to mention our recently departed Prime Minister, John Howard. "John Who?", one of our number responded.

Very witty, I thought. But a bit later, I thought: By George, I think she's got it! Never again need I name the fellow who gave tolerant and progressive Australians so many dispiriting years.

So from now on, it's John Who?

Which leads to a delightful thought. When the opposing factions in the Liberal Party rump despair of their vacillating Oppostion Leader as he tries to be all things to all men and allows Kevin Rudd to play him like a hypnotised chook, he'll become Doctor Who.

Meanwhile, isn't it interesting how history repeats itself? And why do our conservative leaders so love dressing up in medieval finery to go poncing around the Old Dart?

First up in the buckle shoes and funny hat was Sir Robert Menzies, who took the title of Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, a post created around the 12th century to make sure the Dover ports paid their taxes to the English monarch. I think he's the guy who said of Liz, "I did but see her passing by, yet I'll love her till I die."

His beloved Queen Liz rewarded him with the Lord Warden's post from 1966 till 1978, fitting him in between Sir Winston Churchill and the Queen Mother. She'd also put him into the Most Noble Order of the Thistle (which caused some merriment with the plebs Down Under).

Now, if newspaper reports are to be believed (a big ask), Queen Elizabeth of Australia, in her other role as monarch of England, is about to appoint John Who? to the Order of the Garter -- a collection of knights established around 1348 to provide companionship to the monarch.

Ermine robes, buckle shoes, pomp and ceremony, adulation of our beloved ruler, long to reign over us. Johnnie Who? will be so chuffed. And as for Janette!

But Queen Elizabeth owes him. With brilliant strategy, John Who? managed to thwart the desire of 70 per cent of Australians to make their nation a republic.

He split the republican vote when we debated whether our President would be elected by parliament or by a popular national vote. Like most Australians, I supported the idea that Australia should stand as a proud, independent nation, while still still acknowledging our British heritage.

But I also believed our President should be appointed by a parliamentary vote, not by a national election, because it would not disrupt constitutional arrangements which were working so well. And that's where we lost.

With the Mad Monk as his mouthpiece, John Who? showed his mastery of wedge politics. Tony Abbott said the position of President would be far too important to be decided by politicians. We should vote no to a republic so we didn't have the Prez elected by politicians.

Abbott lost me at that point. Either he's stupid, and I don't think he is, or he's so contemptuous of his fellow Australians he counted on their not knowing that under the existing, continuing arrangement, one person -- the Prime Minister, possibly but not necessarily in consultation with a few cronies -- chooses the Governor-General.

It would become a major constitutional crisis if the British monarch rejected the Australian Prime Minister's nomination.

This was shown in a confrontation in 1930 when Labor Prime Minister James Scullin nominated the progressive Australian politician and jurist Sir Isaac Isaacs as G-G. In London, the reaction was predictable. Gad! A good fellow and quite loyal, but he is a Jew, after all. Unthinkable.

Scullin had to go to London to put the case to King George V, and he won. Sir Isaac became Australia's ninth Governor-General, one who helped strengthen national unity into the difficult Depression years.

So today our proud secular nation has a head of state who can only be a member of the Church of England communion, under the Act of Settlement enacted on the opposite side of the world in 1701.

Thanks, Johnnie Who?